


October Song

by BlaiddDrwg1982



Series: This is the Soundtrack of Our Life [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banshee Life Is Hard, Blink and you miss them nipple clamps, M/M, Mismatch Pack, POV Lydia, That Damn Radio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:24:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2010822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlaiddDrwg1982/pseuds/BlaiddDrwg1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia does what Lydia does best. Reading, research, and then accidentally almost dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	October Song

**Author's Note:**

> Song: October Song  
> Artist: Bif Naked

There was something to be said about their group of friends. Not a single one of them was normal. Well. Stiles came close, but that was only if you marked on a a Bell curve and threw in a heavy variable to adjust the standard deviation. She knew. She’d run the math while their teacher had been dumbing down the concept of standard deviation. It was so tedious sitting through classes these day. This was all elementary…to her at least.

 

That’s why it hadn’t come as much of a shock to her that she wasn’t entirely normal. Well. That’s a lie. Coming to after a black out near dead bodies? That wasn’t quite where she was aiming her life path. It was messy, distracting, and in her honest opinion more than a little unnecessary. But, when life deals you a hand of cards, you can fold, or play the hand that you’ve been dealt. She played to win you see, and she didn’t care if that pissed people off or not. It got her through this far, may as well play through the game.

 

So when it came out that she was a Banshee, rather than rant or, well, wail about it, she threw herself into it like it was another research project. Deaton had been some help with it, but his information was limited. As it stood, it was all hearsay and mythology, but there were some consistent stories between the different cultures that had her species in them. The Welsh stories were difficult to read, requiring her to learn a new language so she could read the more authentic stories, but what else was she going to do? She got bored with Latin. 

 

All the preparation in the world didn’t prepare her for the knock on the door the other day. Three middle aged women, dressed in sharp power suits, looking like they’d just come in from an executive meeting, and looking like they smelled something distinctively unpleasant. Opening the door, she blinked back a double image that overlaid on each of the women. Long haired apparitions that had the same haughty look, but sunken eyes and thin lipped. A blink, and the apparitions disappeared. She’d only ever seen her apparition out of the corner of her eye. In the detached manner she had, she categorized it as another trait that was being expressed through her now activating genes.

 

“Well. This is quite a sight. Do you see Mavis, how young she is. And you thought I was delusional saying there was an infant to be seen in this…hamlet.”

 

Lydia for her part kept her mouth shut. Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly a metropolis, but hamlet was a little harsh. 

 

“Can I help you?”

 

The Leader, if you would call her that, gave Lydia a look as though SHE were the unpleasant odour.

 

“Saints preserve us she smells like peaches and sunshine. Hardly fitting for a Banshee.”

 

Quirking her impeccably shaped brow, she gave the leader a look that did not hide the judgemental thought going through her mind.

 

“And I supposed the reek of the grave you seem to be sporting is more fitting? Hardly.”

Moving to close the door in their faces, she found that it was stuck. Raising an eyebrow, it didn’t appear to be stuck on anything. 

 

“We aren’t finished speaking to you child. It would be best if you came with us.”

 

Mavis spoke up from the back, “Best for us that is.” There was a menacing tone to her voice that was clearly meant to intimidate. 

 

Sighing a bored sigh, she simply walked away from the door and triggered the panic alarm on the home security system. Without turning around she hollered back.

 

“Beacon Hills is a small town and the Sheriff’s son is a friend of mine.”

 

Hearing the women grumble in annoyance she went upstairs, and waiting for the police to call in regard to the panic alarm, she pursed her lips and pulled out the research. This was not what she was looking to deal with when she asked whatever spirit was watching her to see if she could meet more of her kind. 

 

Flipping the radio on, she mindlessly let the music soak through the fog in her mind. 

 

_If I fall outta my nest,_

_Will ya pick me up? Will ya help me fly?_

_If I fall outta my nest,_

_Will ya show me love?_

_If I'm in over my head,_

_Will ya pick me up? Will ya help me out?_

_If I'm in over my head,_

_Will ya show me love?_

 

Snapping back to reality, the idea struck her to go and talk to another loner like her. She’s helped out plenty with researching issues for them. She wasn’t known to keep score, well, not in any obvious way, but this time around, she felt she could get by with calling in a perceived favour.

 

_It's cold, baby._

_It's cold, baby._

_I need your love to get me through this time._

 

Grabbing her keys, she flicked off the radio without a second thought and hopped in her car. Starting it up, the radio flickered to life and picked up where she left off.

 

_Lonely October song._

_I am a bleeding heart._

_Lonely October song._

_Help me! I'm falling apart._

_I can't seem to find anyone_

_Who hasn't fallen._

_Fallen down._

_I can't seem to find anyone unlike a crispy leaf on the ground._

_(There are leaves all around)_

 

Huffing with annoyance at the radio, she flicks it off and drives across down and towards the wood. Derek would be the first one to go and talk to. If she could get him on her side, then there was a chance she’d be set. He was handsome, but could be a bit scary to most. Three middle age Banshees wouldn’t be too much to take…she hoped.

 

Pulling up to the restored Hale House, she got out of the car, hitting the lock as her way of announcing her presence. Testing the door knob, it was unlocked. Pushing it open, she called out as though she owned the place.

 

“Derek. Are you decent?”

 

She’d come here once, and he wasn’t. She wasn’t complaining about what she saw mind you, but even she understood there were people who preferred to not be fully on display.

 

“I’m in here.”

 

Moving towards the living room, she smiled softly. She’d been conscripted to help decorate the place. It was more Spartan than she’d usually prefer, but the dark blacks, and blinding whites with the accent of red and burnt orange worked for her. 

 

Walking into the living room, she smiled softly when she saw he was reading on the couch. It looked like an essay. Either he was writing it, or proofing it. Taking a seat in what was understood to be her chair. She, Scott, Stiles, Isaac, Allison and even Allison’s father had what was essentially their own seats in this room. They’d all done enough planning after all in it.

 

“I have a problem that I was hoping you’d be able to help me out with.”

 

Setting the papers down, he tucked a red pen under the essay. He’s been marking? How strange. Setting her purse down, she looked around.

 

“Stiles, you may as well come out. You aren’t fooling anyone.”

 

“Lydia. Stiles isn’t here.”

 

Rolling her eyes, she went to the floor to ceiling curtains and pulled them back. There Stiles stood, hands covering his modesty, naked as the day he was born, but with two screwed on nipple clamps holding him hostage. Giving them a twist to release them, Lydia tossed them to Derek, who looked like he wanted to die.

 

“I’d maybe use the dark blue ones instead. You’re pale enough you need to have a contrasting colour, and Derek would probably appreciate a more visual sign that he’s claimed you. Now, if you could put your pants back on, this is actually serious.”

 

She was so matter of fact about what she just said, that it was hard to not at least appreciate the fact she wasn’t making a big thing out of what she just saw. Sitting back in her chair, she address both of them, not caring that Stiles was dressing like made and flashing her all at the same time.

“I appear to have a trio of Banshees after me and given the scent of death and rot I was able to pick up, I don’t think they want me to join their book club. One of them sounded rather testy and eager to get me out of the house. They prevented me from closing the door somehow, but couldn’t follow me past the threshold. I think I may need some back up if they turn up again because something tells me I may not be scary enough to get them gone.”

 

Derek raised an appreciative eyebrow. Of their entire group, Lydia was the one who seemed to least need assistance, so if she was asking, then it was probably pretty bad. Not one to spook easily, and usually preferring to be in the background, he could see there was a little stress in her eyes, and could smell it on her skin. It was subtle, but it was there.

 

“Alright.”

 

Stiles did a quick double take that Derek jumped to agree so quickly. That wasn’t his usual M.O. But, not one to turn down the opportunity to be useful, Stiles nodded.

 

“I’m in as long as you don’t tell my Dad what you saw.”

 

“Stiles. You’re 18.” Derek sounded almost exhausted at this conversation.

 

“Yes…and no offence Derek, but only for about a week, and nipple clamps and floggers don’t usually appear within a week of a relationship.”

 

Derek paled a little. “Yeah…if we could keep this under wraps.”

 

Lydia smiled. “Nice choice of words. My lips are sealed. Your spanking time will go to my grave.”

 

Getting to her feet, she picked up her purse and slid it over her shoulder. Derek got to his feet and walked her to the door. Stiles, exercising an iota of sense, grabbed the iron fire poker and escorted her to the car.

 

Turning around and acknowledging Derek, Lydia got in her car and drove off the property, leaving Stiles and Derek to follow in Derek’s car.

 

With a life of its own, the music started up again, but it was far off, and not easy to make out. It sounded like the song she’d shut off earlier.

 

_If I'm blind and lose my way,_

_Will ya walk with me? Will ya help me see?_

_If I'm blind and lose my way,_

_Will ya show me love?_

 

How odd? Blinking, she squinted into the setting sun. Taking the turn, perhaps a little quicker than she ought to, she didn’t notice the Suburban coming at her at break neck speed. Feeling herself spinning around, the airbags deployed, protecting her somewhat, but obscuring her field of view. Moving her head gingerly, she felt her brow. It was wet with blood. Shaking hands reaching out, she heard the song in the distance. 

 

_If I'm incarcerated,_

_Will ya bust me out? Will ya set me free?_

_If I'm incarcerated,_

_Will ya show me love?_

 

A cold feeling slid through her as the words sank in. It was like the universe was trying to tell her something. Feeling shock pulling her under, she made out the vague shapes of three middle aged women in power suits looking like they were coming from an executive meeting.

 

“St…erek…”

 

She couldn’t get either name out before she lost consciousness.

 

_It's cold, baby._

_It's cold, baby._

_I need your love to get me through this time._

 

Coming to with a shot of cold water across her face, she pursed her lips to spit out the blood, but it came out as a trickle. Looking up, she tested her bonds. They were in the woods, out past the Hale place. She recognized it, quite well. There was something about being friends with several werewolves, and ex-Hunters, and just enjoying the simplicity of nature. She knew the woods like the back of her hand. A hand that was in desperate need of a manicure. 

 

Looking at her captors, she heard the howl of wolves in the distance. They weren’t just any wolves either…they were her wolves. Smiling a confident smile, she looked them in the eye.

 

“I don’t get why you’re smiling Peaches. We feel the Scream, and you’re all tied up.” The Leader sneered with contempt at Lydia’s perceived stupidity for getting caught.

 

“How do you think we’ve lived so long?” Mavis said with a dark smile.

 

The heretofore silent one piped in, “And how we can find our prey. You young things, are just…”

 

The Leader finished the sentence with a perverse smile. “…delicious.”

 

Lydia heard the snarling getting closer. Without knowing what possessed her, which her journey for discovery was supposed to have uncovered by now, she took in a deep breath, and screamed a full Banshee scream and directed it to encompass Mavis and the Leader. A psychotic little smile grace her lips and she said in a singsong voice.

 

“I know something you don’t know…”

 

Bursting from the woods, she saw Derek and Isaac, fully wolfed out, claws extended, and laser focussed on Mavis and the Leader. Without a second thought, heads were ripped from bodies. Turning her own gaze on the remaining Banshee, she said with a smile.

 

“You have one chance to get out of here, or you can end up like your friends. And if I EVER hear that you’ve been feeding on our kind again.”

 

Standing up to reveal Stiles behind her, folding his knife and stuffing it into his pocket.

 

“We’ll be right there waiting for you.”

 

Looking at those who came to her rescue, she saw Allison and her father coming out of the woods. Gazing up at the sky, she heard the song on the wind. A small smile on her face as the last Banshee ran for the woods, not looking back.

 

_Lonely October song._

_I am a bleeding heart._

_Lonely October song._

_Help me! I'm falling apart._

_I can't seem to find anyone_

_who hasn't fallen._

_Fallen down._

_I can't seem to find anyone unlike a crispy leaf on the ground._

_(There are leaves all around)_

 

“It’s good to be Pack.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may re-tool sections of this later, but the story won't change. Just slowing down the climax...that came out wrong.


End file.
